


Constellations

by sanguine_throne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, all that jazz, for Hannah, i hope this is good enough, she said she wanted sastiel h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguine_throne/pseuds/sanguine_throne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the trials, Sam has plenty of pent up guilt. It just so happens that Castiel is around to watch that hate spill over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lannium (infinite_diversity)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_diversity/gifts).



Sam collapsed into a worn, burgundy armchair. His left hand held a bottle of wine of a similar hue, and his right held a rusting corkscrew. His breaths came out ragged and stuttering despite his best efforts to collet himself, and he sent a silent thank you to whoever was out there that Dean was on a hunt and therefore unavailable to coddle him. 

Sam wasn’t exactly resentful of the way Dean had been treating him, but the burden of being taken care of was slowly grating on his nerves. The trials had passed; there was no point in looking after him. 

Besides, Sam’s own selfishness had led him to fail the trials.

‘One more damn injection…’

Sam had no will to live, he conceded as he took a trembling swig of wine. He’d much rather a drink that burnt as it went down, his own form of self-punishment, but at this point, this late in the evening, anything alcoholic would do.

Sam stared blearily at the Spartan walls of the bunker. In an instant, they were splashed with red and the bottle had left Sam’s faltering grip. Despite the heaving breaths he now puffed out, Sam felt nervous with energy. He clenched and unclenched his fists, dug the tip of the corkscrew along the creases in his palm, and exhaled roughly. Nothing was working. Nothing was worth it.

“Sam?” Came a deep voice from a darkened doorway, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Cas, I’m sorry. Go to sleep.” The angel had taken to sleeping in the bunker as it was one of the few refuges he could seek out in the midst of this crazy angelic war.

Cas didn’t budge. 

“Cas, really. I’m fine.” Sam was beginning to feel downright angry at the man for daring to show concern for him. 

‘Doesn’t he realise I’m no good?’

Sam turned away from Cas, unwilling to watch the angel’s brow furrow and his eyebrows come together in a worried knot. He chose instead to glare at the fragments of his wine bottle strewn across the bunker floor. Wine seeped like blood into the cracks in the concrete. Sam wished he could just disappear as easily, as quietly. Why did everything have to be an ordeal?

Sam was broken out of his turmoil by warmth. He instinctively tensed, ready to throw off whoever was getting into his personal space, but suppressed the urge when he found that it was Castiel touching him. 

Castiel was gripping his shoulder with a firm yet kind grip.

Sam thought that maybe Cas’ hand was shaking, but he quickly realised that it was his own body shuddering. He was crying.

“Cas. What am I supposed to do? I was this” –Sam brought his trembling thumb and forefinger almost together– “close to sealing the gates of Hell. Forever. But I couldn’t do it. All because of my own selfish pride. Hell, I don’t want to live! What made me think that my stupid life was worth more than the whole world?” 

Tears blurred Sam’s vision, and in that instant he was in Hell, doors closing around him, flames licking at his skin in sanguine mockery of the man’s pain. He was still gurgling out admissions of guilt, but he wasn’t registering them.

Sam turned to Cas and collapsed into the angel, who caught him in his arms. That wasn’t it, though. Cas wasn’t just holding Sam up, he was hugging the hunter, embracing him.

“Sam, this is not about the trials, or Hell, or even the world. This is about you. You’re allowed to live. And you’re allowed to want to live. Sam, you did a good thing in stopping. You chose your family, again. You are selfless, compassionate, and kind. I wouldn’t want you to die even if it meant sealing Hell or returning to Heaven or anything. You’re too precious to the world to lose. For me to lose. I know it might seem like you’re lost in a fog, but please, stay with me right now and just for tonight, forgive yourself.”

Sam choked out a sob at those last words. Forgive himself? After all he’d failed to do? After letting himself be duped by Gadreel? After being forced to let Crowley of all people save him? He could almost laugh if he wasn’t in bitter tears. Cas was sweet, but he just didn’t understand.

Cas took Sam gently by the hand with his calloused fingers and led the man, still sobbing, through the bunker and out the main door. It was well past midnight, and the clouds had parted just enough to expose the shining moon. With time, the stars would peek through, too.

“See that, Sam? You are that sky. You think you’re too marred by grey clouds to ever be beautiful again, but underneath, you shine. You shine brighter than any constellation I’ve ever seen, and I created some of them.”

Sam tried to hear Cas’ words, but his crushing depression strangled any warmth he could have felt. He sank to the muddy ground, able to face neither the angel before him nor the sky above him.

‘Dirt,’ he thought, ‘closer to a grave.’

Instead of kneeling of the ground for very long, he felt Cas’ strong arms hoist him into a standing position. Sam closed his eyes, still unable to look he angel and his kindness in the eyes. Eyes so blue and pure that he knew they couldn’t be lying or patronizing. Maybe the truth of it all was the worst part; He was more than dirt. Why couldn’t he bring himself to believe it?

Sam felt something press against his temple. It was unlike Cas’ rough fingers, yet it held the same warmth. Sam opened his eyes. Cas was laying a kiss on him. The angel was by no means aware of boundaries, but this was out of character even for him. 

The shock shook something small and crystalline within him. 

“Sam,” Cas murmured softly against the other man’s ear, “I want you to tell me you want to live.”

“I- I…” Sam quieted for a moment, unable to speak past the knot in his through and the heat in his chest. There was no way he was going to even whisper such a thing. That left only one option.

“I want to live!” Sam screamed into the night. 

As though barrelled into by a truck, Sam fell to the floor. He didn’t have the energy to get up off his back, yet he felt twenty tons lighter than he had in weeks. His chest swelled, his muscles tingled, and his eyes watered. 

“You did it, Sam,” Came Cas’ soft, low melody. 

Sam was still crying, definitely, but instead of jarring sobs wracking his body, small lilting giggles splashed up out of him. He’d done it. He’d admitted he wanted to live.

‘You can live, Sam, you’re allowed to.’

Sam smiled wide, like he would burst if he tried to contain it. He felt Cas lie down next to him, also facing upwards.

They lay there together in companionable silence, bodies barely touching, and gazed up at the constellations above them.


End file.
